I’m Busy Loving You

I love being busy.

Busy is as busy does. Buzzing here, humming there, zooming, zooming everywhere.

We mamma bees really know how to make that honey. We buzz around incessantly all day doing the worker bee job. Then there’s the pollination to attend to and making sure the hive is kept in order. I wonder how many flowers a bee alights on each day. Too many to count I’m sure.

I remember my mum chatting with friends over a coffee (does anyone with littles have time to do that now?) talking about how busy the week had been with a smile on her face. It was a good busy. Not a flat-out, crazy busy that we seem to exist in now. Busy seems to be an obsolete word these days. Maybe not defunct but cannot exist alone anymore. ‘Busy’ has had its day and has been replaced with chaotically busy, super busy and insanely busy. Do we really need an adjective in front of the verb?

We are all busy. Sure, there’s different levels to it and some weeks are more busy than others. We learn to adapt quickly to the changing needs of our work, family, social and personal. I have a busy week coming up. It’s not a normal week of normal busy. There’ll be some late nights, extra demands put on my time, etc. Almost 6 will be turning 6 (and then he’ll be known as Now 6).

I have plans. All that can be done beforehand will be checked off the list. I refuse to spend the lead up to his big day of the year in a constant tizzy. I won’t run around telling everyone who dare listen how astronomically busy I’ve been. I will need to fine tune a few of my personal goals for this coming week though. My busy behind won’t be dropping in to the reader as often to ask, ‘what’s the buzz?’ My posts have already been done and scheduled and it might take me a little longer than the length of time it normally takes me to reply to comments to get back to everyone. There’ll be no droning on next week. It’ll be head down and stinger up.

Too busy for love? Not likely!

Kelly ♥

Image from: here.

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♥ I Love You, Cupcake ♥

Love thy cake.

This might be a brilliant principle to live by when you’re 3. For those who have got to the stage where you’ve added a zero to the end of that number or another higher number, cake intake may need scrutinisation.

My little guy celebrated his 3rd birthday today. I didn’t want to do a post-birth recount here. I’m dedicating this post to him and his love of cake.

Of the 6 kids here there was only one that didn’t bust-a-move to the table where the cake ceremony was about to take place. All the others yelled, ‘CAKE’, and ran like their pants were on fire.

So the candles were blown out without any foofing on the cake (extra tasty bits a.k.a as spit) and a big cheer rang out. I was too busy worrying about the 3 year old with the knife in one hand to concern myself with what the other hand was about to do. The birthday boy decides to grab a handful of icing and stuff it into his cake hole. While this made most erupt in laughter, a few stared agog at the spectacle. This inturn made him think he was funny so he launched in for another handful while I did my best to hold my heffalump back. We did get some great shots of the chubby cheeks with nothing but icing between them.

There were a few refusals from the adults when cake was proffered. Not quite sure if this was due to people watching their waistline or not wanting 3 y.o cooties. Regardless my little guy was definitely not of the school of thought, ‘a minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.’

Have your cake and eat it too while you can, kids!

P.S Here’s your really big slice, as promised, Grandma Cranky.

Images from: here and here.

For the Love of Rocks

Rock a bye baby. Rock around the clock. Crocodile rock. I love rock ‘n’ roll. Rock the Casbah. Rock your body. What rocks your world?

The rock ‘n’ roll kind of rock is not really what you’ll find here. It’s also not a geological discussion about the rock of Gibraltar. There’s no game of rock, paper, scissors going on and it isn’t a pet rock fetish image post.

It’s simply about the good ol’ stone type of rock. You know the ones found in the garden.

My youngest is the collector of all thinks rock. They are gathered from the ground, carried around in sweaty clenched fists and then stuffed deep into short pockets. Some are discarded as a matter of course. Others are left, long forgotten, to dwell in a resting place until reunited with their fellow rock garden friends. Some of the favoured rocks get taped to a piece of paper to make nature scenes. I wonder how these rocks feel.

My favourite, however, are the ones left in the dark crevices of pockets where they mingle with dirt, lint and tissues. They’re about to go for a spin and if they’re lucky they’ll be flung free from the depths and be shiny and clean when they come out of the washing machine. Yes, these are my most cherished rocks. They have already been through so much and yet they threaten to deem it necessary for me to buy a new washer. If I’m really in luck I’ll hear them clunking around in the machine mid-cycle. Deep sea diving past my elbows through the murky water and dodging seaweed-like clothing, blindly trying to reach the illusive culprits is not one of my favoured activities.

Stern warnings ensue with sweet child o’ mine and a detailed description of what rocks can do to washing machines. It seems to make little difference as he runs off to find new rocks to freshly pluck from the dirt, squeeze tightly in his palm and then firmly plant in the safety of a pocket. Pet rocks are not far off. I can feel it in my bones. At least they shouldn’t go through the wash.

I love you. You rock!

Images from: here and here.

I’m Guilty of Loving You

‘I do love you. I plead guilty as charged, Your Honour.’

Drag me off to solitary. Take my smartphone away. Bread and water is all I deserve! Can I please have a side order of love though?

Yesterday marked the first day in 77 that I did not post here on WordPress. Nothing really razzle-dazzle about that except for the fact that I intended to blog everyday for a year. I feel as if I have quickly gone back on a promise to myself.

On the upside my family and I had a lovely day. I was ever-present and shared the joy of my gorgeous neice turning 4.

I was still ‘around the place’ yesterday. I read and read and read. I commented when I felt the desire to. But I had this niggling feeling. Was I being the ever-present wallflower that I am in Facebook land-lurking in shadows like a spy in the lives of others? I was feeling the love but not sharing it!

How do I achieve the balance I am searching for?  Another solution danced through my mind over the course of the day as I offered advice to another blogger who had asked for my opinion. Why can’t we take our own advice? Why do we have to hear it from our own mouths or through depressed keys to give voice to our own thoughts for our own sakes?

I’m going to keep my little tidbit to myself for the moment. I might need it while I’m in the hole. I’ll gladly share if I can just nibble away at it and be allowed to join the mainstream population again soon.

You are the key to my handcuffs heart.

Image from: here.

I Love You Because……

………(pregnant pause).

‘Yes, you love me because………….’

‘you don’t fart in bed like Dad does.’

I asked my boys tonight why they love me. I was prepared for the, ‘because you’re my mum,’ response. I was not prepared for the answer I got instead.

After clutching at my sides for quite some time and then regaining my composure we got back to the question that was still hanging in the air (luckily nothing else was in the air).

Responses from Me First were:

‘We do cool stuff together like go to the playground and skate park.’

‘You make yummy bikkies.’

‘When I hurt myself you kiss me and make it all better.’

‘I love your cuddles. They make me feel safe and happy.’

Answers from Me Too were a little less defined but included:

‘You make yummy lunch.’

‘You play trucks with me.’

‘You love me.’

So what is one to glean from all of this? From a 5 and 2 y.old’s perspectives it seems that I am meeting their needs. We break bread together, not just biscuits. We play, laugh and learn together. They see love and they feel love. Is there anything else children of this age need? Perhaps I’m oversimplifying life but of bigger concern than that would be overcomplicating.

I love my kids. They’re unique and spirited children. They’ve got scars and bumps and are rarely scar-free. Their enthusiasm is contagious even if their energy is not. They put life in my years and grey hairs on my head. They amaze me, irritate me and leave me speechless. They give the best leg hugs and smooches in the business.

There’s nothing else I need from them. Do they need anything else from me?

What do your kids love about you? Perhaps ask them and see what they say. Witty, soppy and left-of-field are all valued here.

I love you just because.

Image from: here.

I Love You From the Bottom of My Heart?

Whichever way you read it, I love you is the only part of the message that matters, yes?

Mixed messages are commonplace in our society. They are used in advertising campaigns, for the purpose of humour, daily conversations and many other reasons that I won’t go into now.

When I ventured into the realm of blogging I had no clue that it would have such a massive impact on my world. Mixed messages abounded on the topic of blogging-the best time to post, content, engagement, advertising…and the list goes on. I was overwhelmed to say the least and still am to an extent when I look at my stats.

For those of you who love a good stat overview:

Posts: 79

Views: 1772

Best ever views: 86

Comments: 257

Followers (Inc. publicize): 154

I don’t know if these are high, low or inbetween what a new blogger could possibly expect. To be completely honest, I don’t really care. All I truly care about is the good folk from across the world who have taken just a moment to see what I have to share.

For me that is the essence in all of this. I set out in my delapidated dinghy near-on 3 months ago wondering if I would find another soul on my journey who would give my thoughts a voice. Many of you have-you’ve made it all worthwhile.

Before I began I had made the decision to write and post daily. In retrospect this was unrealistic. If biting off more than one can chew is true here then I took a large chunk off an elephant. I quickly realised that it wasn’t just about posting. It was about reading, connecting, commenting and engaging. Regrets? No. Changes? Yes.

Daily posting without reading is not doable. Reading without posting or commenting would be okay if I didn’t feel a compulsion to express my thoughts creatively. A compromise is deemed the only solution.

So, it is with this goal in mind that I have made the only choice I see fit and turn this boat around and paddle like billy-o for dry land at knock off time on Fridays. I’ll still be around but I can focus on THE most important part of the week which is, of course, the weekend with my fellas-big and small x 2.

To my followers who hit that like button for every piece of writing I post, I do love you from the heart of my bottom. That’s because I sit on it to write and stillness is something I don’t do well normally. A warm, heartfelt…..

for those who take offence to any thought of my posterior.

Enjoy your Sunday everyone.
My family are off to my neice’s 4th birthday. After all, family comes first!

Kelly.

xoox

Images from: here and here.

I Love You Haiku

The Ideas You Love to Have

What a lovely idea!

The light’s on but it might pay to check if anybody’s home. It seems that little revelations are par for the course today. I’m just not sure if they’re occuring inside a head that’s capable of light bulb moments today.

Thursdays seem to be a wall day for me. I don’t hit it. I can’t put my shoulder to it and break my way through. It flattens me to paper thin.

As I sit here in my unkempt home I know something’s off-kilter. Things around here normally reflect the fact that I’m pretty house proud. Not today. I don’t care. My youngest sits here playing with playdough while he eats it and we have a dialogue about why we shouldn’t eat it-just pretend to. Everyone’s happy. The sun is shining. My brain whizzes at its normal speed but it’s just not sure which direction it should be heading in.

You see, I’ve had an idea. I don’t think it’s a good day to have a bright idea. I’m not capable of processing it today but I’m not sure if I’ll remember it tomorrow. Maybe it’ll just be replaced with another idea because my grey matter seems to fire them off at regular intervals. This one’s another blog idea but that just makes my mind boggle because I spend quite a bit of time here already. Do I have anymore minutes in my day to spare? No. Can I leave my house unclean indefinitely? Um, no. So where do I pull more time from? I have NO idea!

I’ts similar when one of the boys has an idea. I try to focus on what their idea is but my mind always sneaks back to, ‘where are we going to find the time for that?’ or ‘when is that going to fit in?’ They’re always full of ideas and I adore the index finger in the air that accompanies their wonderful brainwaves. My little one’s idea of a good idea normally includes food or play. Pretty easy to manage. The big guy’s ideas normally involve going out or making stuff. A little more involved and a bit more time consuming. Still fairly easy to manipulate into a day.

Had any good ideas lately you’d be prepared to go public with?

Love your idea.

Image from: here.

My Heart Melts With Love For You

Your love melts my heart.

Noooooooo! Not another sappy, love-filled post. Nah. It’s about something completely different so read on if you’re wondering where this might be going.

When it’s 38°C outside there’s only one thing to do. Stay cool and keep calm.

It’s been above 30 for over a week with high humidity on most of those days and a 39°C day to come tomorrow.

After a few days you can notice the strain on people as we face yet another day of high temperatures. Employing any method possible to cope with the weather and keep your wits about you at the same time is essential. It is far too easy to let your patience fray at the edges with the added concern of keeping everyone as cool as possible.

Our strategies for survival over the past week or so have been to:

• plan outings for the morning-that way we’re not all stuck inside all day long
• fill the 9Ltr water container in our fridge at night ready for the next day
• make fruit juice popsicles/ice blocks to have in the afternoons
• use spray bottles to mist our faces when out in the middle of the day
• water the lawn in the early evening with the sprinkler so the kids can run under it.

A trip to the beach early this morning did have my heart in a drippy state but I wasn’t suffering from sunstroke. I was able to sit in the shade and watch my family at play. This is not something I do often and must remember to take a step back and observe the three men in my life at regular intervals. They are more important to me than wearing thongs on my feet as I navigate the searing sand. My heart may have warmed in that moment but it had nothing to do with the temperature. When we returned I felt energised and calm at the same time even though I looked wilted, windswept and gritty. The kids had a blast and no-one got burnt.

Surviving the extremes in your part of the world? Care to share how you cope?

My heart melts with yours.

Image from: here.

I Pause To Love You

I love you on pause.

Sometimes I wish there was a pause button for just a moment’s peace. At other times it would be nice to be able to use the remote to stop the world to live in a moment just a teeny bit longer.

Unfortunately that’s not reality nor is it the reality I have been living the past three days.

My life love is on pause. I can’t love you. Well at least not in the way I prefer to.

I have germs. Millions of them I suppose. The up-my-nose-in-more-ways-than-one kind. Please don’t feel a compulsion to break out the tissues. It’s not a Kleenex moment. At least not of the crying kind. I’ve used that many the kids are now building towers with the empty boxes.

I also had to pause my posts. The daily serving of love was nowhere to be seen. Typing would have been near impossible, having to take care of the faucet-like nose. In fact, I got that sick of the incessant running that I resorted to jamming a tissue up each nostril just to take a break from the blowing while trying to do normal daily tasks.

Ok so I’ve managed to avoid the words boogie and snot and also believe that I have succeeded in not sharing this with my family. For the record, the blame lies firmly with ‘almost 6’ who shares all there is on offer at school and kindly brought it home for me. I know I could possibly give it back to him so it’s come down to this:

• kisses on the tops of their heads have replaced the smackaroos I normally get to share with my fellas
• hugs are limited to the standing position so my legs have seen a lot of loving lately
• blowing kisses has become normal practice for the time being even when no-one is going anywhere.

I am existing in my own bacteria filled bubble where there is less chance of letting any bugs out but also zero possibility of any love getting in. I don’t like it one bit and definitely do not want to pause this moment. I’m keen to go back to being the giver of love not the giver of illness.

How do you show your love when the ‘no touching’ rule has been imposed?

Pausing the love just for the moment.

Image from: here.

I Love You, Stat!

I love you in the here and now.

You know me like nobody else does. Inside out really. My lack of maternal instinct should never have been an issue but it was.

For me.

I never knew that I had the capacity to feel such an encompassing, overwhelming love for another human being-let alone two of you.

I’m not going to share your birth stories (or sagas as I remember them). They were just how you got here and don’t contribute whatsoever to who you are.

‘Get (ffff), this (ffff), baby (ffff), out (ffff), of (ffff) me (ffff), stat!’ was what I wanted to holler at the midwife. I had no clue what stat meant although I had deduced from many an ER episode that it meant fast. Why weren’t there people running in every direction grabbing gurneys and monitors and other important medical stuff? This part is just not meant to happen in an instant. I wanted you here now-to meet you, to hold you and to make sure I was going to love you.

I needn’t have worried though. Being maternal (pre-children) is not all its cracked up to be. My family, who apparently love me dearly, always claimed that I would only have one child. They would also state that I am a determined little bugger if asked. One 24 hour labour was not going to stop me from having another child. 1 day sounds so insignificant in comparison to the rest of your life.

The rest of their lives though fly by in a blur of milestones and years. My eldest turns 6 this year and my youngest 3.  Did we break the land-speed record to go from birth – 6 in 3.8 seconds? Parents with older children always remark, ‘the next thing you know they’ll be getting their licence.’

So I will love you right here right now, immediately and at every available opportunity. STAT!

Image from: here.

I Love You Crayola-ing

My love for you is like the whole carousel of Crayola colours.

Nothing beats Crayola if you ask me. The company has been around for over 100 years and is known the world over. They must have a Product Development Officer that is a mum.

There’s Changeables, Mini Stampers, Erasable Crayons, Twistable Crayons, Sidewalk Chalk, Dry Erase and so many more. They are versatile, fun, vibrant and quality products that are well and truly loved in our household.

Many a colouring in competition has been entered (and some won) after using a packet of these perfect drawing companions. Masterpieces have been procured and displayed on the fridge of fame. Hours of colouring, drawing, tracing, patterning and creating takes place here each week.

They are sunshine on a rainy day. They turn the ordinary into extraordinary. They bring imaginations to life on a page, wall, carpet, concrete, mirrors and even skin.

Yes, the humble Crayola gets put through its paces with my boy-o’s. My eldest attempted to be Picasso on one of the white walls in the loungeroom when he was younger. Not wanting to be outdone, my youngest has strived to surpass his brother in the making of colourful creations on any surface imaginable.

My love for them really comes into play when my desire for clean necessitates the removal of marks made on surfaces they’re not designed for. To date, I have not not been able to remove the innovative ink from anything. Sometimes all that’s needed is a wet cloth. On trickier items some orange oil and a little bit of elbow grease is required. Skin needs a good soaking in the bath and there you go. Job done.

The Crayola company is renowned for its range of products. My hope is to be renowned for my ability to show you I love you in as many ways as there are shades of crayons (if not more).

If you’ve found yourself with a Crayola conundrum I’d invite you to leave your mark below.

I love you and all the Crayola hues.

Image from: here.

A Blanket of Love For You

I love that you love your blankie.

What is it about a blanket that gives comfort and makes one feel safe?

For many it doesn’t end in childhood either. The ‘security’ blanket can last far longer than that.

Both of my sons are blankie boys. They’ve both had their favourite since they were old enough to communicate that they’d prefer a certain one.

I don’t think it’s a colour or pattern decision. For my two I think it’s a textural or tactile thing. The feel of the blankie was how they made their choice.

My youngest has dragged his behind him when he gets out of bed as part of his morning ritual for well over two years. Only recently has he stopped running his blanket through thumb and index finger along the satin edging. He’d reach the corner then continue along the next side like he was doing laps of a racetrack. It wasn’t too long ago either that he agreed to relinquish his blanket to the hollows of the washing machine. Prior to that I’d try to sneak it out of his room, in the wash, out on the line and then back on the bed without him noticing. This was rarely successful.

I often tuck in the eldest only to find him cocooned in his blanket with the quilt at the foot of the bed. He still requests the same blanket on his bed throughout the summer and when there is a seemingly unlimited choice of size, colour and textures sitting in the cupboard. These blankets are still worthy though. They get put through thair paces being used to build blanket forts and indoor cubbies. They really get put to the test when the kids are unwell and reinforcements are called upon.

I contemplate what age they might be before the blankie meets his mates at the back of the linen cupboard. The only other alternative is that the beloved blanket starts to fall apart at the seams from being well and truly loved to death. Whatever the case may be, I won’t be pushing for their dear blankets to be making a final curtain call. Until such time I’ll just keep providing the same blankie, after being freshly washed, returning it to its rightful place on my boys’ beds. In the future when the blankie has been retired to the cupboard or met its demise we’ll just have to rely on love to be a virtual blanket.

You may find this kind of normal and a tad on the yawn side. If your child has an attachment to something unusual that you’d care to unveil drop a line or two in the box below.

I’m feeling the love for the soft, clean blankie.

Image from: here.

I Love Growing With You

I love you as we grow together.

Of course you’re growing up while I’m just growing older.

So when do we officially finish growing up? Some say it’s when you literally stop growing upwards. Being given the key to the door at
18 symbolizes the right of passage to adulthood. For some being a ‘grown up’ means being able to take care of yourself. Others think of grown ups as having a home, job and responsiblity to others.

Yes, I think I can tick all those boxes so all that’s left is to grow older. I refuse to use the term ‘old’. How do we define old anyway? Grey hair? Wrinkles? Bifocals? Walking frame? Chronologically I’m about to reach the start of ‘middle age’.  I’m a well established plant in this garden of love.

I like to think of us as growing together. Of course we’re at different stages of our lives and you can’t possibly relate to where I am. I can relate to you though. I’ve been a child without a care in the world. Except, maybe, for wondering what exciting things we’re going to do that week, what’s for dinner and who I was going to play with on the playground.

We try not to burden you with the issues that face adults in our daily lives. We do our best for both of you and hope that when time dictates that it’s your turn you’ll be prepared. I grew you from a seed, we water you regularly, feed you all the nutrients you require, tend to your daily needs, talk with you often, watch over you with patience and pride and most importantly love you every single day.

My little seedlings seem to grow before my very eyes. Measuring them regularly on a growth chart proves my theory. They grow out of shoes and clothes at a rate of knots but I wish for it to be a little longer before they grow out of saying,’ I love you, Mum’.

Keep growing my sprouts! My love for you continues to grow as do I.

Image from: here.

At the End of the Day, I Love You.

I love you as the day comes to an end.

The best part of the day, for many reasons, is the pointy end. Think of your day as an upside down triangle or martini glass. At the beginning of the day my glass is full. Full of love, vitality, hope, patience, the ability to praise, resolve issues while remaining calm and many other ‘great mum’ qualities.

As each stage of the day passes and the kids sip from my glass, I try to focus on what remains in the glass not what has been drained. After we have made it through the hour of power (aka, please give me the strength the make it through dinner, dishes, bath, pj’s hour) I steel glances at the clock and the countdown is on. If I get a chance I like to slip away from the house and sit out on the back lawn for a few minutes to soak up the last rays of the day and top up my Vitamin D.

I don’t wish that time to be over. It just seems to be the longest hour of the day. Happy hour is approaching and I’m parched. I need to refill my glass. Something with medicinal qualities to help calm and relax. E.B. White called the martini, ‘the elixir of quietude.’

At the end of the day I like to reflect on conversations we’ve had, fun things we’ve done together and the love that’s been shared. Working out a game plan for the next day while allowing some room for flexibility helps me to be ready for the day ahead. Then it’s time to switch off, unwind the tightly coiled spring and allow my inner voice to speak without having to shout.

Who’s getting the next round? Make mine a dirty martini with an olive.

I love you when the day is done.

Image from: here.

I Love You to Bits (and Pieces)

I love all of you-even the bits and pieces.

When it feels like everything is falling apart at the seams love can put anything back together. I don’t know if the same can be said for the excavator with the plastic arm that was bought for $2. Its life is probably on borrowed time. There’s only a certain amount of superglue that can be put on a piece of plastic that is 2mm wide.

Lucky we don’t need superglue to put our boys back together sometimes (although it is used in hospitals instead of stitches when appropriate)! I think we’d need a long-haul liquid transprort truck to deliver it to our house if that were the case. Lucky for Transformer bandaids (plasters) or a strategically placed kiss and a lot of love to make it better. If it’s in between minute and need-to-go-to-the-hospital-right-now we offer to cut it off. That way it won’t hurt anymore, right?

The same can’t be said for my foot when it has a clandestine meeting with a piece of discarded lego that has hunkered down under a dropped blanket. I think I’ll bear the scars of trodden on items for the rest of my years. As for all the other bits and pieces that accumulate in between the sofa cushions, under the sofa and behind the sofa I’d love a dollar for every single one I pick up.

We do not have an Ikea showroom home but we have a place for everything and everything belongs in its place. We have drawers and zip-lock bags, containers and boxes. The one thing that drives me the most nuts of all:one puzzle piece missing from a box and not realising until you can’t find that last piece to complete the darn thing.

I guess it’s fortunate really that kids don’t come apart. They probably would actually leave their brain behind if that were the case. Even though they are not made to be stored compactly in a compartment they can certainly be a human puzzle that you can’t find that annoying, frustrating and most important missing piece to.

Lucky I love a challenge. Maybe I’ll go check that puzzle piece-eating sofa.

Love ya to bits, munchkins.

Image courtesy of Stuart Miles from: here.

I Love You Anyway

Anytime, anywhere, anyhow.

Anywhere you go, my love will follow you.

Anytime you need a shoulder, please lean on mine.

Anything you need, just ask.

There isn’t anyone who loves you more than I do.

I’ll love you in anyplace-first, second or last.

My heart is full of love for you. Anymore and it will overflow.

That’s a known fact, anyhow!

Anyway you look at it, I love you.

I Love You at the Playground

Oh for the love of playgrounds!

A visit to the local playground affords parents the chance to do many things.

When I’m at any playground with my two children I always try and ensure I do the following things:

• be as excited about getting there as they are and remain enthusiastic throughout our time there
• play with them. They might think I’m silly but it’s great for them to see adults (Mum, Dad, Nan, Grandpa, etc) acting like a big kid
• help them with anything they’re not quite able to do on their own yet.
• observe them and their interactions with each other and children they don’t know
• I try to keep my phone in my bag unless it’s a call from my husband-work and everyone else can wait.

We visit a playground close to home at least once a week. We also frequent the school playground at least one afternoon after the bell goes. On weekends we will hunt down a new playground for the kids to explore. It’s pretty awesome to see their little eyes light up when we pull up at one we’ve never been to before especially if we don’t forewarn them.

A new playground to my kids is the equivalent of a trip to the lolly shop. Getting let loose to run, jump, slide, climb, crawl and swing causes a lot less cavaties and there’s no sugar high at the end of our visit. If anything they’ve burned off some excess energy that may have turned into a tantrum or foot stomping argument later on.

My nearest and dearest took mine to the playground this afternoon. I missed this outing but I used the time to do this post without interruptions. It’s great for Dad to share some time with his two boys. He even took our dog as the dog park is right next door. Quite frankly, I think he had an ulterior motive because he is a little tired of ‘watching’ me carry my laptop around like it’s a newborn. So mission accomplished on all fronts today and brownie points to hubby.

I’ll catch you at the playground of love tomorrow.

Image from: here.

I Love You Shadow

You are my shadow and I love you.

There’s only one small problem with that. You afford me little to no privacy. You’re never quiet and always in constant motion even if I’d like to stop just for a moment.

Shadowing is something I have had to get used to. It won’t last forever so I’ll remain grateful that you always show an interest in what I’m doing. Yes, even when I go to toilet and you rest your head on my lap.

I actually worry now when my shadow slips away from me. He is fast and ingenious knowing that the window of opportunity to create havoc is only open for a limited time. My shadow will try and sneak snacks from the cupboard, use scissors to cut something up into infinitesimal pieces or disappear without out a trace leaving me to comb the house and cajole him into rejoining me.

When night falls and it’s time to hit the hay, my shadow loves me making shadow puppets on the wall. The rabbit and the duck are favourites right now. As long as he doesn’t ask me to try and do a dinosaur we’ll be ok.

My shadow will eventually be content to cast his own shadow and that’ll leave me humming:

Me and my shadow
Strolling down the avenue
Oh, me and my shadow
Not a soul to tell our troubles to
And when it’s twelve o’clock we climb the stairs
We never knock ’cause nobody’s there
Just me and my shadow
All alone and feeling blue

I love my little shadow.

Image from: here.

I Love You in French

French was on the language menu for my eldest today.

It was quite hot so we spent the better part of it inside. We did numerous jobs interspersed with fun activities. My daily post is always at the back of my mind and I was contemplating what to write today when I decided that my son and I could use the laptop for something other than blogging or playing games.

I thought it might be interesting to learn ‘I love you’ in another language. I chose French for obvious reasons-it’s the language of love and Paris is supposed to be one of the most love-filled cities in the world. We’ve already covered German so I thought we wouldn’t travel too far from there.

We looked at where France is on an interactive globe we have here at home. We listened to the pronunciation and wrote it down once we’d looked it up on Google. We practised drawing heart shapes and then coloured them in. We used it in conversation throughout the day instead of our customary ‘I love you’s’.

It was fairly basic stuff but he really seemed to enjoy it. I enjoyed it too-connecting with my No. 1 today and learning something together.

Un grand ‘baiser français de air sur les deux joues de moi à vous (A big French ‘mwah’ air kiss on both cheeks from me to you).

Je T’aime my beautiful boy.

Image from: here.